


One Heart from Breaking

by spikesgirl58



Series: the poetry challenge [8]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 17:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30059226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: There are times when it takes a good friend to help you see the forest for the trees.
Series: the poetry challenge [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171559
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	One Heart from Breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparky955](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparky955/gifts).



Illya Kuryakin checked his watch and made a face. Of all the things to have gone wrong. He could prevent a nuclear holocaust, prevent a country for going up in flames, but he couldn’t remember to wind his watch. Maybe it was time for a new one, one of those self-winding kind that Napoleon was so fond of.

At the thought of his partner, Illya doubled his step. He’d promised Napoleon to meet him at seven and it was half past already. Napoleon would think he’d been ditched.

Illya knew all too well what that felt like. He’d watched Napoleon silently mourn the loss of his imagined life all over again and nothing he could do or say seemed to help. 

The woman was an idiot, as was her husband. Illya could not in a hundred years see what she saw in Stefan, not when compared to his partner. Napoleon was far superior. He was strong and brave. He was cunning and kind. He would lay down his life for that of an innocent for the mere price of a smile or look of happiness in return. Stefan was a coward, a liar and a cheat. He’d put Clara through hell and to whose arms does she run?

Illya had had his share of that kind of woman when he was growing up. They used men as stepstools until they either got where they wanted or what they felt they deserved. He predicted a long sad life for Clara and Stefan.

He turned the corner and spotted Napoleon sitting at a small table. He was nursing a drink and staring off into the night. Around him roared the excitement of Rome, but Napoleon might as well be on a deserted island.

Putting a smile on, Illya headed towards him and slipped into a vacant chair beside him. “Sorry I’m late.”

Napoleon brightened slightly and toasted him with his wine glass. “I thought you stood me up.” He poured some wine for Illya and more for himself. The bottle was nearly empty.

“Never.” Illya shook his wrist. “Watch got wet and by the time I got it to work again, I forgot to wind it and I was late.”

“I keep telling you, son. Join the twentieth century and get a battery operated one.” Illya interrupted him by laughing.

“Thought crossed my mind, too.” He put on his glasses and opened a menu. “So what’s good?” At Napoleon’s lack of an answer, Illya looked at him. Napoleon was staring at a woman, her dark, shoulder length hair swinging as she walked. “I always thought you were more into blondes.”

“What? Well, you know what they say about any port in the storm.” Napoleon tore his eyes away and picked up his own menu. “They tell me that the veal piccata here is very good… and the chicken parmesan.”

“As long as there’s a lot of it,” Illya said, raising his hand. The waiter hurried over and there was a brief but fiery exchange in Italian.

“Are we going to be kicked out of here?”

“What? No, not at all.” Illya set the menu down. “Well, maybe… it depends upon whether his mother is as good a cook as he claims.” Napoleon laughed at that. “That’s better.”

“What?”

“You laughing. You have been rather glum since getting back.” Illya tucked his glasses back into his jacket pocket as bread arrived. He broke off a piece offered it to Napoleon and then claimed one for himself. He dipped it in olive oil and happily chewed the thick crust. 

“Yes, well, I thought Clara was my future.” Napoleon picked up his wine glass, then set it back down. He studied Illya seriously. “I thought she was my everything.”

“Clara is a goose.” Illya refilled his glass and drank.

Napoleon tried to appear hurt. “You’re talking about the woman I love.”

“And where is she? With that buffoon Stefan. Any sensible woman would know a prize catch when she sees one, so I stand by my claim. I drink to you, my friend, one in a million.”

“One can be a pretty lonely number.”

“Two can be lonelier is one is living a lie, which would have been the case if she’d stayed with you. Either you would be unhappy because you were stuck behind a desk in a nine-to-five job or she would be because you were out being a dashing spy… then guess whose life would be impossible when he was home?” 

“I know… I’ve had this discussion with her.” Napoleon toyed with his bread. “She told me that I was unsuitable husband material.”

“Most Section Two agents are.” Illya abandoned the bread for some olives as a platter of assorted meats arrived. Illya smiled and handed the waiter the empty wine bottle and nodded. “ _Molto bene_.”

“Don’t you miss it, Illya?”

“Miss what?” He didn’t stand on ceremony and was heaping thinly sliced meats onto a plate. “You mean the All American dream about a white picket fence and roses? Two kids and a dog?”

“Yes, after a fashion. Someone to come home to at night and be able to talk, really talk.”

“About what, Napoleon? You couldn’t share the aspects of your job, lest THRUSH use her as bait. You would have to lie and pretend you had a long day at the office. And those bruises, well, there was some trouble on the bus, you see.”

Now Napoleon was laughing. “I see what you mean.” He selected a piece of paper-thin prosciutto and tore it into strips before eating it. “I most certainly wouldn’t be vacationing in Rome.”

“Not if your eldest needed braces, the youngest wanted bassoon lessons and Madame’s hat was terribly last season. Instead you are here with me.”

Now Napoleon pinching the corners of his eyes to keep from crying, he was laughing so hard. “Oh, we couldn’t have that.” He chewed the meat and then grinned. “You really are something else, Mr. Kuryakin.”

“I know.” Illya poured himself more wine and refilled Napoleon’s glass.. “So are you, and you need to remember that.” He winked coyly at his partner. “And you know what they say, when in Rome—“

_If I can stop one heart from breaking,_   
_I shall not live in vain;_   
_If I can ease one life the aching,_   
_Or cool one pain,_   
_Or help one fainting robin_   
_Unto his nest again,_   
_I shall not live in vain._   
  
_Emily Dickinson_   
  



End file.
